


Hard Rock Meet Cute

by DesertScribe



Category: The Adventures of Brisco County Jr.
Genre: F/F, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 15:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12460623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertScribe/pseuds/DesertScribe
Summary: Amanda Wickwire's father invites her to a wedding for people whose identities he neglected to mention in a town she has never heard of.  What could possibly go wrong?





	Hard Rock Meet Cute

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Missy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/gifts).



Amanda Wickwire reread the telegram for the fifth time. The details remained as sparse as they had been on all the other readings.

> _NO SUTTER CREEK THIS SUMMER._  
>  HARD ROCK INSTEAD.  
>  ARRIVE BY JUNE 20 AND BE MY +1 FOR WEDDING.  
>  LOVE, DAD  
>  :) 

She knew brevity was the usual nature of telegrams, but more often than not her father forgot that little detail and rambled for paragraphs which undoubtedly cost more to send than Amanda cared to think about. He only ever kept his messages this short when he was in a hurry, in which case he more often than not left out more than he probably should. This telegram seemed to be no exception. Why Hard Rock? More importantly, where was Hard Rock? Mentioning what state or territory it was in would have been a good start. And, for the love of god, what wedding was he talking about? Only the fact that her father wouldn't need a plus one if he were the one getting married kept Amanda from going into full panic mode.

At a loss, Amanda looked up from the sheet of paper and back across the counter of the Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania telegraph office, only to discover that the young man who handed her the message had been replaced by a middle-aged woman behind the counter in the time that she had spent trying to divine deeper meanings from the few short sentences.

"Are you certain this is all of it?" Amanda asked the woman. She already knew what the answer would be, but she had to ask anyway.

"Very certain," the woman said primly. Her graying black hair was pinned back into a tight bun and, when combined with her high collared plain black dress, seemed to have been carefully calculated to communicate the idea of, 'Don't even think about trying any funny business with me,' without needing to speak the words out loud. Amanda could relate, though her methods of achieving the same result were slightly different.

"It's just," Amanda started to say but stopped herself with a sigh before going any further, because she knew the chances of this stranger wanting to hear about the trials and tribulations of dealing with her father were slim to none. Besides, how could she explain a man who she loved dearly but found herself endlessly frustrated with because he couldn't be bothered to remember whether he had last spoken to her three days ago or three months ago and thus never adjusted his conversational expectations accordingly? "What does that punctuation at the end mean?" she said instead.

"Oh, that? It's a bit of typographical humor meant to convey emotion through the medium of text with a minimum of characters," the woman said. "Turn it sideways, and the combination of colon and closed parenthesis-point is meant to resemble a smiling face. Substitute an open parenthesis-point to produce a frown, or a semicolon for a wink, and so forth." The woman sniffed disdainfully. "I would never encourage such silliness when assisting people in sending their messages, but I'm told its usage is becoming more popular by the day. You could even say it's quite 'the coming thing,' Miss."

Amanda sighed again, penned a reply to be sent, paid, thanked the woman, and left. At least she was already finished with classes for the semester and didn't need to worry about dealing with exams while trying to figure out what her father was up to this time.

* * *

It was just as well that there was only one town of Hard Rock Amanda could find, because her father had gone incommunicado again and failed to respond to any of her messages asking for clarification about both the destination and the wedding. She knew she should not take it as a sign of malice or even as an indication that she should have reason to worry.

Most likely the messages had slipped his mind before he could get around to replying. That happened all the time, regardless of who was trying to correspond with him. When Amanda was with him, she saw it happen on a weekly basis. Or maybe he had desperately needed scrap paper to scribble some bit of inspiration onto just as the messages had arrived and had gone straight to drawing all over the blank back side without reading the front. Amanda could remember seeing him do that at least three times just within the last year. Or maybe, as had happened on one notable occasion, he was doing another experiment involving goats and the messages had gotten eaten before he had a chance to read them.

It would all be fine, she was sure. Still, she started keeping a closer eye on newspapers as she prepared for her journey, just in case there happened to be a report of somebody blowing himself up while conducting science experiments in a small California town. Trying to remind herself that no news was good news, Amanda, packed the last of her things into her suitcases, returned her key to her landlady, and headed to the train station.

* * *

It took Amanda longer to get to Hard Rock than she had expected, though she had to travel roughly the same number of miles as she would have needed to get to Sutter Creek. First, there were seemingly more rail delays than usual as the train constantly needed to sit idle on siding lines as higher priority freight trains trundled past. Then, Hard Rock was not near any railroad lines, and the nearest station was a day's travel away by stagecoach. Worse, the earliest stagecoach departing for Hard Rock when Amanda arrived was already fully booked, without even room left for anyone to ride on the roof, so she had to wait until the one the following day.

Still, she managed to arrive in Hard Rock with more than a week to spare before the alleged wedding which she still knew nothing about, and all that remained was to determine exactly where her father was. The town was small but not so small that a quick glance around the streets revealed any hint of a makeshift laboratory nearby. She had not really expected it to be that easy anyway. Her father usually preferred places out beyond the city limits anyway, because he received fewer noise complaints that way.

Lacking any other information to work with, Amanda decided to go ask at the sheriff's office, because local lawmen usually made it their business to at least know who was who in a community and where to find them should a problem arise. The man who had helped unload Amanda's suitcases from the stagecoach pointed the way, and Amanda set off in that direction, thankful that she had learned over the years to travel light.

The door to the sheriff's office was closed but swung open at touch when Amanda pushed on it. The interior was cool, dimly lit, and appeared to be deserted. Scant light filtered in through closed shutters over the barred windows. A few desks filled the edges of the floor space. Shelves, maps, and a chained gun rack filled with rifles adorned the walls. Further back, barred cells on either side were cloaked in deeper darkness, and there might have been a door beyond, but it was too dark for Amanda to be sure.

"Hello, is anybody there?" Amanda called.

"What do you want?" replied a voice from the direction of the cells. Now that Amanda had reason to look closer and her eyes were beginning to adjust, she could make out the shadowed figure of a man stretched out on one of the cell bunks, feet crossed at the ankles, hands folded across his chest, and hat pulled down over his face.

"I wanted to talk to the sheriff," Amanda said. "I thought he might be able to help me find someone."

"Sheriff Viva's gone, probably for the next few hours" said the man. He shifted and lifted his hat slightly, probably to get a better look at her, but Amanda still could not see his face. There was something familiar about his voice though, and it was putting Amanda's hackles up. "He left me in charge until he gets back."

"I'm sure he did," Amanda said, not even trying to hide the sarcasm.

"I'll have you know that I can be a trustworthy and reliable fellow when I want to be, but it's no skin off my back if you don't believe me," the man said with what might have been a shrug. "If you want some other source of information on where to find people in this town, go a block to the right and around the corner and you'll find Lenore's Café. The mayor owns the place and she knows everybody around here. Ask her about whoever you're looking for." Then the man lowered his hat back to its original position over his face and either went back to sleep or did a good job of pretending that he had.

Amanda could have waited, but decided to check out Lenore's on the off chance that the man was telling the truth. She didn't want to carry her luggage all over town without knowing her final destination, so she left it behind one of the desks at the sheriff's office, far out of reach of the cells. Then, hoping that she would not end up regretting it, she headed out the door and turned right.

The café turned out to be a large, inviting space with large windows and pristine tablecloths. The place was already near to full capacity though it was early for dinnertime rush. That wasn't too much of a surprise considering how wonderful everything smelled. Amanda managed to grab the last available seat at the bar and only needed to wait for a minute before a young brunette woman appeared with a printed menu and a smile.

"Hi, I'm Donna, and I'll be taking care of you today. What can I get for you, ma'am?" the woman said, handing the menu to Amanda.

"Hi, Donna. I'm actually looking for the owner. I was told she would know where to someone else," Amanda said, but she took a moment to read the menu anyway, because it had been a long time since the meager snack that had been far too small to deserve the title of lunch at the previous stagecoach stop, and this place had the best smelling food she had encountered since starting her journey. However, Donna's next words brought Amanda's full attention on her again.

"I'm sorry," Donna said, "but Mayor Raymond is busy doing mayor stuff right now. Maybe I can help you find this other person. It's a waitress's job to know her regulars, and everyone in town is a regular at Lenore's Café!"

"Do you know Albert Wickwire?"

"You mean the Professor?" Donna said immediately, which Amanda knew from experience could be either a good sign or a bad sign, depending on what kind of trouble the man had been getting into since his arrival in town.

"That's him," Amanda confirmed with cautious optimism.

"He's got a big place about six or seven miles north of town," Donna said. "There were plenty of locations available closer in," she added, frowning, "but he said something about wanting a separate water source so he wouldn't have to worry about contaminating the town's supply if anything went wrong. I don't know a lot about what professors do, but I'm not sure I like the sound of that."

"Yes, that is definitely, definitely him," Amanda said with less optimism now. "Can you tell me how to get there?"

"Of course I can, but does he know you're coming?"

"He should if he hasn't already forgotten," Amanda said.

"Hmmm, that really does sound like the Professor," Donna said. "The town got a telephone system installed a while ago, and the Professor had lines run out to his place just last month. There's a telephone here you could use to call him, but it's for paying customers only."

"Of course," Amanda said, "and thank you!" She looked down at the menu again, reading it more carefully this time. Just the descriptions were enough to make her stomach growl in anticipation. Fortunately the room was noisy enough to cover the sound. Amanda looked up at Donna once more and asked, "Is the house special sandwich as good as the menu makes it sound?"

"It's even better, and I'm not just saying that because it's my job."

"I'll have one of those then."

"Coming right up," Donna said. She scribbled the order into a small notebook and then pointed to a brightly painted wooden booth built into a corner of the room, saying, "The telephone is over when you're ready."

"Thank you again," Amanda told Donna and immediately headed for the phone. The booth had a double thickness glass paneled door which could be pulled closed to block out some of the room's noise, so Amanda took advantage of the feature, even if it did leave her feeling uncomfortably like she had just put herself into a display case at a museum. The operator picked up on the first turn of the crank and connected the call without fuss. "Dad?" Amanda said as soon as she heard someone pick up.

"I sure hope not," said a deep, gruff voice over the even deeper rumble of heavy machinery on the other end of the line. "You calling for the Professor?"

"Yes, I'm calling for Professor Wickwire, my father," Amanda said.

"Gimmie a second," the voice said. Then there was a sound like someone covering the mouthpiece of the phone with a hand followed by a barely muffled bellow of, "Professor, your kid's on the phone!"

"Amanda?" her father's voice answered faintly from somewhere more distant, barely audible over the machine noise.

"I don't know," the deep voice said. "She didn't say. How many kids you got?"

"Just the one as far as I know. Ah, thank you, Bowler," her father said, closer to the telephone now. Then he said directly into the mouthpiece, "Amanda? Hello! Where are you?"

"Hi, Dad. I'm at Lenore's Café in Hard Rock, looking for you," Amanda said.

"Already? But I wasn't expecting you until June!"

Amanda sighed. "It's been June for a while now, Dad."

"Really?" There was a pause that probably meant he was checking a calendar. Then he said, "Huh, so it is. I was wondering why Katrina had mentioned getting a room ready for you. Anyway, it's great that you made it here in time for the wedding!"

"Yeah, Dad, about that," Amanda said. "Who exactly is getting married?"

"Didn't I tell you? Dixie Cousins!"

"No, Dad," Amanda growled through gritted teeth, barely resisting the urge to kick the wall of the booth in frustration.

"Well sorry," her father said, clearly oblivious to why she was unhappy and also possibly oblivious to how the noise in the background was getting louder and harder to hear his voice over. "I guess I'm telling you now."

"What I mean is, no, I am not going to help you crash Dixie Cousins's wedding, Dad," Amanda said. "I know you like the woman's singing, but there are some places that you shouldn't follow her, and her wedding is one of them."

"But she and Brisco both invited me! It would be rude not to go."

"Wait. Brisco as in Brisco County, Jr.?"

"Of course," her father said, sounding genuinely confused. "Who else would Dixie be marrying?"

"Of course," Amanda echoed, but she wasn't sure if her father even heard her over the still growing noise of the machinery.

"I'll send someone into town with a wagon to pick you up, and we can talk about it over dinner. There's so much for us both to get caught up on. This is going to be great, I promise," her father said happily.

Before Amanda could reply, another voice from her father's end of the line, Brisco County, Jr. himself if Amanda was not mistaken, shouted, "Hey, Professor, is it supposed to be sounding like that?" She could also hear some women distantly shouting something in German, though she had no idea what they were saying. Maybe she should see if she could take a class in German next semester.

"Like what? Oh, my, that's not good," her father said, probably to Brisco. Then he said directly into the telephone, "Sorry, Amanda, but I need to take care of this. I'll send someone to pick you up at the café. Gotta go now. See you late--" And then he hung up, cutting off his own voice and the now screaming machinery.

Amanda sighed again and dropped the telephone's earpiece back into its cradle. She closed her eyes and slowly counted backwards from twenty to help herself calm down. Then she squared she shoulders, opened the booth's glass door and went to see if her food was ready yet. She had only made it halfway across the room when there was a rumble like distant thunder and the ground shook slightly, causing everyone's dishes and silverware to rattle on the tables.

There was a moment of silence as everyone in the room paused to see if there was more to come, but when nothing else happened, the noise of a dozen different overlapping conversations quickly returned in full force as, in true Californian style, everyone mentally wrote off the shaking as just another tiny earthquake and nothing to be worried about.

However, Amanda knew better. She hurried through the crowded room, past the counter, out the door, and into the street. Out in the open, it was easy to find north, because all she needed to do was look for the huge plume of smoke rising in the distance. No, that had definitely not been a naturally occurring earthquake. It had been an explosion.

"Oh, god. Oh, god," Amanda muttered over and over to herself as she looked frantically around for the local livery stables or anything else she could use to get north to the scene of the disaster. The only think that stopped her from simply stealing a horse was the sound of a voice calling from the direction of the café.

"Ma'am? Excuse, ma'am? Amanda? Your name is Amanda, right, ma'am?" Donna said, hurrying up to her. "There's a call for you at the café from Professor Wickwire."

Still feeling like this all might be some kind of dream or nightmare, Amanda allowed herself to be led back inside to the booth with the telephone, where the earpiece was off of its hook and sitting on top of the telephone's wooden box of a body.

"Hello?" she said tentatively, putting the earpiece to her ear.

"Amanda!" her father's voice greeted her, seemingly just as happy and enthusiastic as before but possibly a little raspier.

"Dad! What happened? Are you okay?" Realizing that she was practically shouting, Amanda glanced at the door to the booth and was relieved to see that Donna had thoughtfully closed it for her once Amanda had stepped inside.

"It was just some technical difficulties," her father said. He paused to cough and then added, "And maybe some minor smoke inhalation, but nothing to worry about. Everyone's fine here. Unfortunately, I can't say the same about the room Katrina got ready for you, or that whole half of the house really. You're probably going to want to get a room in town for now. Sorry about that," he said sheepishly.

They talked for a few minutes longer, and this time they were able to say proper good-byes at the end of it without getting interrupted. When Amanda hung up and stepped back out of the booth, the café looked even more crowded that before, and what had been her seat at the counter appeared to have been claimed by a woman with a small child balanced on her lap, so Amanda did not have the heart to try to evict her. Instead, she glanced around the room and noticed a pretty redhead sitting alone at a table by one of the windows, so she wandered over in that direction.

"Excuse me," she said, "I don't mean to intrude, but is this seat taken?"

The woman looked up at Amanda, then looked around at the rest of the room, seeming to notice the crowd for the first time. "Oh, my," she said, "it has gotten rather busy in here, hasn't it?" The woman gave Amanda a more thorough inspection, seemed to decide that she did not object to what she saw, and said, "Please, by all means, sit." As Amanda lowered herself into a chair, the woman rearranged the piles of books and papers that surrounded her like the ramparts of a castle.

"Thank you," Amanda said and was gratified to see the woman smile back. With red hair and pale skin like that, Amanda couldn't help wondering how easy it might be to turn that smile into a blush. However, she had other things that she should focus on first. "I'm Amanda," she said, extending her hand to the woman.

"Iphigenia," the woman replied, accepting Amanda's hand and giving it a shake. Her hands were delicate and uncallused beneath the delicate fabric of her gloves, but her grip was firm and sure.

"Is it always so busy in here?"

"I wouldn't know," Iphigenia said. "I just got into town yesterday. My brother went off to do who knows what first thing in the morning and said I shouldn't expect him back until late, so it will be nice to have someone to talk to."

"Thank you again," Amanda said. "You're a lifesaver."

"Actually, I'm a lawyer," Iphigenia said.

"Sometimes those can be the same thing," Amanda said, remembering a few times when her reflexes had gotten her into minor scrapes with the authorities and having someone who was able to word a plea of self-defense in a court of law more coherently than just 'he had it coming for touching me there' had been very helpful indeed.

"You're too kind," Iphigenia said with a smile, which she immediately tried to hide by taking a sip from her teacup. A hint of a blush had started to rise on her cheeks, and Amanda hadn't even started trying yet. "And if you don't mind me saying, you look like you've had quite the day today."

"Like you would not believe," Amanda said. Just then, Donna arrived with Amanda's food.

Iphigenia let her eat, but in true lawyer fashion she occasionally got Amanda to answer questions between bites, until by the time Amanda had finished eating she had already told most of the story of her journey up to her arrival in Hard Rock. Really, Amanda could not have asked for a better dinner companion, and the fact that Iphigenia was very easy on the eyes did not hurt either. She thought Iphigenia might be thinking the same thing but could not quite be sure yet. Hopefully she would have time to find out.

"And then the sheriff wasn't in, and some guy in the cells pointed me here," Amanda said. She drummed her fingers on the table beside her now empty plate as her thought from before returned to nag her. "It's the strangest thing," she said, as much too herself as to Iphigenia. "I didn't get a good look at him, but I swear there was something familiar about him, as if we'd met before, but I can't think of a name that would fit that voice."

Iphigenia's hand made a barely controlled descent from her mouth, landing her teacup onto its saucer with an audible clack. "Pete Hutter," she said. Now there was a name that Amanda had not thought about in months, but now that Iphigenia mentioned him....

"You know, you're right," Amanda said with a small laugh. "That's exactly who that guy reminded me of. How on earth did you guess?"

"He just walked in the door behind you," Iphigenia said. Amanda would have turned to look, but as soon as she started to do so, Iphigenia reached out and grabbed her hand with a hiss of, "Don't! You might draw his attention." And now Amanda noticed that Iphigenia's blush had vanished more quickly than it had begun, leaving her face even paler than before. Amanda could feel her shaking through the hand which she had not yet withdrawn, though whether it was from fear, anger, or both was anyone's guess.

"It can't really be him," Amanda tried to reassure Iphigenia. "Pete Hutter died in a gunfight last June."

"Don't I wish," Iphigenia hissed through gritted teeth.

"I saw it happen!"

"Did anybody check for a pulse? Because he seemed pretty lively in September when he tried to kill me, and he doesn't look dead now either."

Amanda's eyes went. After hearing something like that, she definitely could not resist taking a glance behind her, despite Iphigenia's continued objections. She turned halfway around in her seat, pretended to scan the room for a waiter, and out of the corner of her eye took stock of the man leaning against the front counter and placing a ridiculously long dinner order in between patrons seated on high stools and eating their meals without any indication of what kind of outlaw they might be rubbing elbows with. From what she could see, he had the same face as Pete Hutter, the same long hair, the same hat, and the same apparent fondness for dark clothes. If he wasn't Pete Hutter, then he was a very dedicated impersonator.

"We have to do something," Amanda whispered, turning back toward Iphigenia, "especially if he was telling the truth when he said the sheriff wouldn't be back for hours."

Iphigenia leaned forward and said in an even quieter whisper, "I say we head for the door, just two ordinary patrons who are leaving because they've finished their meal." She held up a hand to preemptively stop Amanda from objecting and continued, "When we get behind him, you go left and I'll go right. Whichever way he turns, one of us will be able to hit him before he can reach his gun."

"I like the way you think," Amanda said. She took a deep breath and steeled herself for action. "I'm ready if you're ready." Then she imagined a different sort of action and, before she could think better of the idea, she leaned closer still and asked, "But first, maybe a kiss for luck before we start?"

Iphigenia froze for a moment with her eyes wide as her whole face blushed deep red at record speed. Amanda mentally kicked herself for going too far too fast. However, when Iphigenia finally moved again it was not to recoil away. Instead she closed the last small bit of distance between them and planted the kind of kiss on Amanda's lips that would definitely be a lucky one if it were scientifically possible for any kind of a kiss to be lucky.

"Let's go be our own heroes," Iphigenia said when they finally broke contact again. She selected the largest book from her pile and tested the weight of it in her hand. Apparently satisfied that it would make a suitable weapon, she left some money on the table, stood up from her chair, and headed for the door.

Amanda followed close behind, enjoying the view as Iphigenia's dress and modest bustle only served to emphasize the sway of her hips instead of hiding them. Amanda half suspected that Iphigenia might be exaggerating her movements just for her. Whatever came next, she would be able to say that something good had come out of this trip, and she wouldn't be thinking of helping to capture a wanted criminal when she said it.

They flanked Hutter exactly as planned, and once they were in place, Amanda tapped him on the shoulder and, with false sweetness, said, "Excuse me, Mr. Hutter?"

"Yeah?" he said, turning around to be greeted by Amanda's fist in his face in the exact same moment that Iphigenia kicked him in the back of the knee and slammed his right elbow upwards with her law book to knock his hand away from his gun. He dropped to the floor with a surprised squawk, and the two women had him pinned in an instant as everyone else in the vicinity backed up to make room for the unexpected fight. "What the hell?!?" he yelled, trying to struggle out from under their combined weight, a feat made even more difficult by the fact that Iphigenia's blow had apparently been a precision strike directly to the funny bone, so his right hand kept twitching and spasming every time he tried to move it to. "What was that for?" he asked Amanda, finally seeming to recognize her from earlier in the day. "Did you not like the food here or something?"

"You tried to kill my father," Amanda snarled down at Hutter.

"I've tried to kill a lot of different people," he said. "You're going to have to be more specific."

"You tied me to a tree with a shrinking rawhide strap attached to a rifle's trigger," Iphigenia said, causing Amanda to stare at her in surprise.

"Okay, that one I remember," Pete admitted. "It's not like you actually died though."

"There's also whatever you were just locked up in the jail here for."

"I wasn't locked up for anything. Taking a nap in a bed instead of at a desk isn't a crime," Then he looked past their shoulders and said, "A little help here, please, Lenore?"

Amanda and Iphigenia looked up to see a dark skinned woman staring down at them and shaking her head in disbelief. "What did you get yourself into this time, Pete?"

"I haven't the foggiest," he said.

"Ladies," Lenore, who was probably the café's owner and town's mayor if Amanda had to guess, said, "you should probably let him up. The sheriff gets a little annoyed when people beat up his friends."

"Does the sheriff know his friend is a wanted fugitive?" Iphigenia said.

"He knows I got a full presidential pardon for everything I've done, though he likes to tease me that they only gave it to me because at the time thought they were doing it posthumously," he said.

"You mean you just get out of everything without any consequences?" Amanda spluttered.

Pete rolled his eyes at her as if she were stupid, saying, "That is the basic nature of a pardon."

"I'm afraid he's right, ladies," Lenore said. "And I'm also afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave the premises for the time being if you insist on causing more trouble. I like to keep both my town and my restaurant orderly. Maybe we can all discuss this in the morning after everyone has had time to cool down. Unless you wanted to press assault charges, Pete?"

"And have people think I'm trying to be an actual lawman?" Pete said. "Hell no!"

"In that case, we'll continue this in the morning," Lenore said. She offered her hands to Iphigenia and Amanda and helped them both to their feet with a single pull.

As Amanda and Iphigenia returned to their table to collect the rest of Iphigenia's things, they could hear Lenore helping Pete Hutter to his feet and saying, "Seriously, Pete, can't you go one week without something like this happening?"

Outside on the street, Amanda and Iphigenia looked at each other and both burst out laughing.

"All this," Amanda said, "and I still need to find somewhere to stay while I'm in town, because my Dad apparently just blew up my house."

"I was told when I checked into the hotel that I had gotten the last room in fifteen miles," Iphigenia said. "Apparently this wedding is going to be something of a big deal."

"God damn it," Amanda muttered, wondering what else could go wrong.

"Oh, no, you misunderstand me," Iphigenia said, shifting all her books to carry them in one arm so that she could use the other to take Amanda's hand. Her blush was back, and it really did look good on her. "I don't think this is going to be a problem at all if you're amenable to sharing."

Amanda leaned in to answer with a kiss to be certain that Iphigenia was offering what she thought she was offering. Iphigenia responded in kind and, still holding her hand, led Amanda in the direction of the hotel.

Yes, Amanda thought, whatever else happened this summer, at least one good thing was definitely coming from it.

**The End**


End file.
